


Grace of the Loa - Ogoun

by mneiai



Series: Grace of the Loa [3]
Category: Warcraft - All Media Types, World of Warcraft
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, Sylvanas Is Tired, Vague Fight Scenes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-01
Updated: 2018-02-01
Packaged: 2019-03-12 03:39:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13538910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mneiai/pseuds/mneiai
Summary: They have what they need to bring Vol'jin back, but they're not in the clear, yet.





	Grace of the Loa - Ogoun

**Author's Note:**

> If you didn't come here from Tumblr, my Tumblr is manyangledone if you want to chat about Tyrajin or whatever else!

The group faced the trouble they'd been waiting for on their way out of Durotar. An ambush of Forsaken, who didn't have much time to regret their mission. For Tyrathan, it felt good, after days of physical rest combined with mental anxiety, to just let go against someone. He could tell that many of the trolls were surprised at how well he fought and had a moment of nostalgia for Pandaria and Vol’jin’s own revelations on that front.

While Tyrathan collected his arrows from their fallen opponents, they discussed what to do next, and decided to split into two groups--the larger group to draw attackers, the smaller group to make their way back with the remnants of Vol’jin. All of the trolls insisted Tyrathan be with the latter. 

The bait was not perfect, they still faced groups trying to get at them--all Forsaken, implying that Sylvanas hoped to keep the other leaders in the dark. 

They were two hours from the ship when the strongest attack hit. Their attackers weren't trying to kill (a foolish prospect when facing trolls who could recuperate from nearly any non-fatal blow), but they were overwhelming. Eventually, out of arrows and tiring, Tyrathan called a surrender, hoping that if Sylvanas meant to kill them, she could have easily done so. 

He wasn't expecting the new Warchief to show up herself. 

“I've heard the most interesting rumor,” she began as she stalked around the camp they'd been taken back to. “That the Darkspear Tribe is working with the Alliance to disrupt the Horde.”

Tyrathan’s watched her move around him as he maintained an uncaring facade, senses stretched to follow her when she left his line of sight. “You have to know one human doesn't mean the Alliance is involved. And out of all the members, the Darkspears are some of the least likely to harm the Horde.”

“Under Vol’jin, perhaps, but now?”

She came around in front of him again and stopped, glaring. “What are you doing with them?”

He met her eyes, keeping a steady gaze despite the urge to flinch. He'd debated just how much to tell his captors, but now that he was seeing Sylvanas in person he knew his answer. She was distracted and stressed, as much as the undead could.

“We're going to bring Vol’jin back.”

Her eyes widened. “Why would you take part in THAT?”

“Because I love him.” It was easier to admit to someone like her than to someone who might care about him as a person. And he could tell it unsettled her, as he had hoped it might.

“You--you, human, were in love with Vol’jin? What could he possibly have done to you to cause that?”

“He was my friend. We fought together, many times. We saved each other's lives. “

Pursing her lips, she leaned her head back, taking a moment for thought. “I have many tasks I must see to, being Warchief has made everything more difficult for me. Vol’jin seemed to actually ENJOY this, though I cannot fathom why. There is power, yes, but I now have to constantly consider the reactions, the feelings,” she wrinkled her nose, “of others.”

Finally, she stepped away, motioning to her people to bring around her mount. “If you succeed in this, human, tell him his throne awaits him. “

And like that, she was gone, and he and the trolls with him were released. 

 

They reached their boat to find that the other group wasn't there, yet. 

“I don't think Sylvanas had them killed.”

“No, she not be wantin’ strife with da tribe, not now when she be collecting allies.”

“We’ll backtrack,” Tyrathan finally announced, “follow the path they were supposed to be taking. We'll either find them or find some trace of them.”

They left a few trolls behind, in case the others did show up, and then set out. In this, at least, all of the hunters were comfortable. Tyrathan was experienced enough in working with Vol’jin to predict what the shadow hunters would do, and they were reverent enough, perhaps, of the Loa working through him that they were willing to follow his lead. 

They found half of the other group, Denjai among them, holding off an attack by Alliance forces. Tyrathan decided that whomever had fed lies to Sylvanas in an attempt to stop them might have done the same to the nearest Alliance commander.

He raised his bow and knew the others were doing the same, as the melee fighters among them started to circle the group. He’d killed plenty of humans, but this felt different. To kill Alliance, especially humans, with trolls, with the Horde, grated at his sense of honor even if he’d done his best to act neutrally in the last few years.

The Alliance forces must not have been expecting anyone to come back for the others, because the sudden attack took them by surprise. Tyrathan aimed for throats and eyes, forgetting himself and his trepidation in the energy of the fight. The trolls moved with him, every Alliance fighter falling with at least two arrows piercing them, if they weren’t taken out first by the blade of an ax or glaive. 

When all their opponents had fallen, they hurried towards the rest of their group. Tyrathan paused only to slit a throat of a still-breathing soldier on the way, the most mercy he could grant anyone when his mission was so important.

“Where’s everyone else?” Now that Tyrathan could take a closer look, he realized there were half as many trolls--living or dead--than were in group.

“Dey be dead,” Denjai muttered, wiping off a blade on the robes of a dead mage. “Da Alliance be whittling away at us as we be traveling, dey be knowing dey face trolls and fight like it.”

“...Let’s get back to the boat before anymore show up.”

No one let down their guard until they were far out to sea. Tyrathan, a bit longer than that. Before, battle ready and tense, he hadn’t had to think too deeply on what he'd done, the side he'd just chosen for himself.


End file.
